no title
by Broken Coda
Summary: Gin x Izuru, no plot. Basic character interaction.


Sometimes in winter Gin's voice turned slightly husky but he never really minded; he liked winter and its desolate silence. When he had nothing else to do he'd sit out on the porch and watch the rain, tilting his head to the side. But rather than looking up at the sky, he would focus his attention on the ground where the droplets broke and scattered.

Gin laughed more often during those cold days – real laughs, not his odd megalomaniacal ones.

Izuru didn't mind winter either. There were, after all, other ways to keep warm than training every day. Sometimes Gin would stay longer. He slept like a child with a beloved toy. His hair would tickle Izuru where it rested on his neck, but Izuru never moved – he wouldn't have been able to, anyway, with the arm slung over him, pinning him down.

Izuru never slept, either.

---

It had been about a week after they had first started spending more time together (Izuru didn't know what to call it – he disliked euphemisms but it sounded too crude otherwise) - he had tried to get himself drunk and almost succeeded, but he couldn't remember why he'd done it in the first place. After getting kicked out of the tavern on the grounds that he was setting a bad example to the other seated-Shinigami hopefuls, he made his way back to the third division main building and found himself at the doorstep of the captain's office.

Izuru was about to lean against the door when Gin opened it. He stumbled and almost fell. The fact that he managed to stay relatively upright was somewhat of a miracle.

"Ara," Gin said, with almost-convincing surprise. He looked at Izuru closely, who had compensated by propping himself up wearily against the doorframe. "You really must be drunk to come here at such a late hour."

"'S only three," Izuru said. Looking at Gin, he couldn't shake off the feeling that he'd done something wrong.

Gin paused. He began to close the door. "Go to sleep, Izuru." He didn't say anything else, but nor did he move his arm any further as clear droplets began to spill onto the floorboards. Izuru looked up at him and fell to his knees, not even bothering to stem the flow of tears.

"Taichou," he said.

Neither moved. Then Gin sighed, squatting down so that white cloth fanned out behind him. He placed a hand on Izuru's head.

"Still a child, huh?"

The rest was a blur, after that. It happened in slow motion like a faulty record, or a love scene in an old romance. Izuru collapsed, pitching forward – and was caught, arms wrapped around him. He thought of Hinamori as he cried silently into Gin's neck. Probably he said her name aloud, though he wasn't coherent enough to register it.

Gin tightened his hold, making Izuru look up in shock. Gin's eyes were half-open, cloudy, framed by silver-tipped lashes. _Izuru_, he might have said, or maybe it was nothing at all.

In any case, Izuru is not the heroine. He backs away and runs.

---

Later, when Izuru came to reflect upon it, he decided it had been no more than an alcohol-induced, childish fantasy.

---

Hinamori was an open sort of person. She was not demanding, like Gin. Gin had things to hide; he took Izuru from behind, silently, with deliberate intention. He did not bite but licked, like a cat. Izuru hated this; hated the way he could not see Gin's face, gage his smile. He could never access what emotions might be in those crimson eyes. They were always open, lashes sometimes fluttering against his neck.

Butterfly kisses, they were called.

Hinamori was curvy. She liked to play with Izuru's hair, though she knew it would trouble him to fix it afterwards. She smiled and laughed a lot. Izuru would take the pace slow, because she was so petite. Fragile, like a living doll.

---

"Cute, isn't she?" Gin said one day, to no one in particular.

Izuru paused from the book he had been taking off the shelf. "What?"

"Hinamori-chan." Gin made a note on his sheet of paper. His feet were tucked up on the chair, clipboard balanced on his knees. He rarely did this unless he was alone. "Doesn't she just blush so _delightfully?_"

Izuru's hand slipped; his arm shot out to catch the book. Only just. "You were watching?"

Gin made no comment for a moment. "More to the point," he said, pen carefully underlining a string of characters, "You were letting me watch?"

Silence. Izuru moved to stand in front of the captain's desk. Gin's pen stilled momentarily, but he did not look up. He resumed his work.

Izuru's jaw tightened as he violently yanked Gin's arm away. "Damn you," he said quietly, angrily. "Can't you be even a _little_ jealous for me?"

Gin looked at him then, blank and expressionless, face half-shadowed. Outside, the sun was beginning its slow descent. "I have no right to be."

That was all. Izuru knew there were a number of implications to be had in that simple statement, but he was too tired to care. Gin had not resisted his hold, and in fact could have evaded him in the first place if he had wanted to. Instead the captain carefully picked up his pen from where it had been flung across the table.

"I will give you a choice," he said. "But if you go, you will not come back to me."

Izuru did not move. He closed his eyes, briefly, his expression pained. Anger still coursed through him, but something new was forming: defiance. He curled his lip.

Walked out without a backward glance.

The door slammed behind him, or perhaps it was just the wind.

---

Izuru knew that Gin had often spent time at the tenth division. This had always made him feel slightly nauseated; however, it had been none of his business, and he was forced to let it go. _He's just a boy_, he would have wanted to say, once, though he knew what the answer would have been: a considering smile, a shrug; _only physically_. As if there were other facets to their relationship other than the physical.

Izuru did not go straight to the fifth division. He didn't think he could handle Hinamori and her innocence, still less Aizen's shrewd eyes. Aizen had a _past_ with Gin, something no-one ever spoke of. Aizen would not approve.

Izuru went to the other member of the trio from his schooldays. He was loud and crude; he would not waste time with small talk. Izuru knew how to rile him to the point of bloodlust. Then they would fight.

---

Gin treated him normally, which should have been expected, but Izuru had almost forgotten what normal was. Always the same smile, the same voice, the same mask – moulded to perfection, an unwavering shield. Izuru felt like he could not keep up. He was wary of self-betrayal. This was something new to him.

---

_Renji was crouched, ready to lunge, when a thought hit him._

"_Hey," he said suddenly, suspiciously, "Is there something wrong?"_

_Izuru wiped the blood off his mouth. He could have laughed. Typical oblivious Renji._

_He said nothing, and jumped up towards him. Swung his sword, once. Renji yelped and tumbled off the rooftop._

---

After so many days of endless rain, the clouds dissipated. The sun finally appeared. Unfortunately it brought with it a wave of swelteringly hot weather.

Izuru felt sick. There was something about the humidity in the air that was putting him off. He made it to the third division building. He had finished his duties early; perhaps he could ask to take leave.

He gave the door a compulsory knock before entering. "Taichou," he said. "Permission to—"

That was all he managed. He collapsed on the floor in a graceless heap.

Gin studied him from across the room, then walked over and crouched down beside him. Slender fingers brushed his hair out of his eyes. Gin lowered his head but suddenly stilled, and instead carefully gathered Izuru up in his arms.

---

Izuru woke up to a sudden crash and a series of indistinct mutterings, which stopped when it was noticed that he was awake.

"Ah!" the boy said, "Oh no, did I wake you? I'm really, really sorry – Unohana-taichou said I was supposed to let you sleep but – I'm just so clumsy sometimes-...uh well anyway, how are you feeling?"

Izuru looked at him in bemusement through half-closed eyes. "I dreamt I was flying," he said slowly.

Comprehension dawned on the boy's face; he tugged at his black hair. (Black, or was it an impossibly dark brown?) "That would make sense. I mean, I actually heard him land on our rooftop, which means he must have been carrying something heavy--"

"Um," Izuru said.

"--and then, can you believe it!" the boy exclaimed, "He just dumped you on us, without a word! Well, he hardly said anything, but he just gave this _smile_ to Mika and she went all _gooey_." He wrinkled his nose. "She likes him, what a creep."

"Who was carrying me?" Izuru interrupted.

The boy gave him an odd look. "Ichimaru-taichou." He finished cleaning up the mess and brought over a tray of food. "By the way, Isane is, sort of, really mad at you."

"Oh," Izuru said.

"Apparently you haven't been eating or sleeping enough, if at all. Also she wanted to know why you hadn't come to us earlier about _this_." He tapped the bandage on Izuru's chest.

Izuru stared at it. "What is it?"

"You didn't _notice_ it?"

"No."

"You're kidding me. It was _infected_. It _had_ to have hurt. –-Here, eat."

"I didn't notice it."

"Oh – well anyway," the boy said, disturbed, "Ichimaru-taichou said to notify him when you get back."

Izuru said nothing for a moment. "Then I should –"

"_No!_" the boy said, pushing Izuru down as he struggled to stand up. "You have to rest for a day at _least_."

Izuru looked at him, coolly. "I'm a vice-captain."

"I don't care. I'll feed you if I have to."

They stared at each other, Izuru calm, the boy belligerent. Izuru exhaled with a reluctant half-smile. "Alright."

"Alright what? You want me to feed you?" the boy said, disconcerted.

Izuru laughed this time. "No. I'll stay."

---

Renji had beaten him easily, as always. Izuru hadn't cared; couldn't remember whether he went to him in the first place wanting to win or lose. He couldn't remember receiving such a deep wound, though it did not matter now in any case.

It was evening by the time Izuru was released from the fourth division's overprotective hold. Gin wasn't in his office, nor was he at the tenth division. But then there were a thousand other places he could be. There was no point in seeking out his spiritual pressure if Gin wanted to stay hidden.

Izuru paused. Sometimes when the captain had nothing to do he would seek out a high place and nap, or stare up at the sky. Not many people knew about this; Izuru himself had only seen Gin do it once or twice. It was worth a try.

Izuru jumped up onto the rooftop, but due to some small miscalculation almost tripped against the ledge. Thankfully, he managed to regain his balance.

"Oh," came a voice from up ahead, "Welcome back."

Izuru looked up from his almost comical position, arms half-extended on either side of him. He righted himself, took a step forward onto safer ground. He bowed his head deferentially. "Ichimaru-taichou."

Gin tilted his head to the side. "You probably shouldn't be doing such a thing in your condition."

"I'm fine," Izuru said. "I just...needed a rest."

Gin's fingers slipped upwards to tangle in his already wind-tussled hair, moonlight highlighting a few loose strands. Izuru, in his academy days, had often idly discussed (read: bickered) with Renji and Hinamori on the subject; they had come to an eventual agreement that the famed vice-captain was probably just much older than he looked. This lasted for all of five seconds until Hinamori pointed out that if he were old enough for his hair to start greying, surely there would be crinkle-marks at the corner of his eyes from smiling so much. That started them all off again.

Izuru looked away. Up close, he knew Gin's hair was a mix of a few different shades – white with the slightest bluish tinge; silver, without being grey – or metallic, as silver was wont to be. He did not need the reminder.

"Well," Gin said. "You should take care of yourself more. The third division was pretty hectic for a few days."

Izuru half-attempted a smile, though there was nothing to smile about. "Surely there wasn't _that_ much work to be done."

"No. But you'd be surprised at the relative incompetence of some of our seated ranks."

Izuru inclined his head at the implied compliment. He felt tired – exhausted, with the meaningless shinigami talk. Why did he care about work that had already been done?

"Let's end this," he said.

Gin looked up. "What was that?"

"I changed my mind." ---Those words. Hinamori had argued intensely with him over his health; she was sharp, but not observant. She had noticed. But she did not understand why.

Finally he had come to her one day and said, _I think I have made the wrong decision._

She was a little preoccupied that day, a little irritated at his apparent lack of any kind of self-preservation instinct. Her reply was short.

_So?_ she said.

That was it. A simple, sensible answer. Izuru stared at her for a full minute.

She squirmed as his eyes began to glaze over.

_Kira-kun –_

Izuru had caught himself, bowed slightly. Apologised. _Sorry for disturbing you at this time. _

He left.

---Izuru inhaled as he opened his eyes. "I changed my mind," he repeated.

Gin did not answer for a moment. "I have not," he finally replied.

_Hopeless_, ran Izuru's last coherent thoughts. _Oblivious, aggravating son of a – _

He launched himself at him.

This time Gin was caught entirely by surprise; pushed down onto the sloping roof. His head hit the tiles, but Izuru was not in a mood to bother with apologies.

"You have." His voice dropped to a quieter tone. "You never meant it in the first place."

"What are you, my conscience?" Gin said tiredly. He didn't even try to shift the weight that was pinning him down. "Enough, Izuru."

Izuru leant over. Lower. Then lower still. "Or what?" he whispered.

Then he kissed him.

Gin inhaled sharply. He did not respond, but nor did he move away. It seemed suddenly strange to Izuru that out of all the things they had done, kissing had not been one of them. As if it were some sort of mutual agreement, an unwritten law.

And after he had pulled away to take a breath of air, Gin hauled him back down again.

----unfinished--

BC: yes, that is it. sorry it ended at such a...climactic moment. I'm not intending to finish this, but someone else can if they so wish.


End file.
